


you were always perfect (i was only practice)

by potidaea



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Kara Danvers Doesn't Know that Lena Luthor Knows, Lena Luthor Finds Out Kara Danvers is Supergirl, They both need therapy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potidaea/pseuds/potidaea
Summary: "Lena Luthor knew Kara Danvers in every way possible, or at least she thought she did. They had been fucking on and off (mostly on) since the day they met, practically…and out of their dalliances grew a friendship. Not a relationship, Lena didn’t have those - but Kara was the closest, most intimate friend she had ever known."
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 430





	1. why don't we just play pretend?

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Same Drugs" by Chance the Rapper
> 
> Here is a playlist [about this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2BcUbDfRGYKx22D7KIO55W?si=v55W4iA0TZWbzlVEgRUAUg).
> 
> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)

Lena Luthor knew Kara Danvers in every way possible, or at least she thought she did. They had been fucking on and off (mostly on) since the day they met, practically…and out of their dalliances grew a friendship. Not a relationship, Lena didn’t have those - but Kara was the closest, most intimate friend she had ever known. 

Kara knew that monosyllabic text responses were a sign she was desperately overworked and needed an iced coffee (or, time permitting, an orgasm). She knew that if she was overeager in her replies, sending too much too fast back-to-back, she missed Kara and longed for her attention. There was never any judgement, just a warm smile. And Kara knew after her third email regarding an L-Corp press release sent directly to the junior reporter’s attention at CatCo that Lena really did not care about press releases; instead, she invited her to lunch. Kara knew her standard lunch order (kale salad with grilled chicken and black coffee) and her real lunch order (double cheeseburger from Big Belly Burger). She knew that Lena’s favorite sweatpants were the ones she bought during freshman orientation at MIT. She knew that Lena looked at her filled with hunger and awe every time she took off her shirt. She knew each and every sigh, groan, moan that she could pull from Lena’s lips. And she must’ve known, in the way that Lena always lingered the morning after, that there was so much more to their friendship than benefits. If she did, she never said.

Lena knew that Kara loved potstickers and any other food that could be easily inhaled. She knew Kara loved her job, but not more than she loved her sister. She knew Kara hated heels and groaned every time she was down her last bra - the only one in her drawer with underwire ( _why do I even own this thing_ , she’d gripe). Lena knew Kara thoroughly enjoyed when she wore heels and probably wouldn’t protest if she never wore a bra again, because _fuck I love your tits, Lena_. She knew that when Kara was upset, her forehead crinkled adorably just between her eyebrows, but when she was _really_ happy her nose scrunched up as her grin stretched wide. She knew she loved making that happen.

There were also things she _thought_ she knew about Kara Danvers. Like, her name. Or that she was safe to trust with the most intimate and hidden parts of herself, because Kara - she thought - was a terrible liar and above all else, kind. She was an absolute fool. She thought Kara knew the weight of her past, of the fear she felt each time she inched herself open for Kara. For what? Her pleasure? But she now knew she didn’t know Kara Danvers at all. In the shocking numbness of the revelation, she couldn’t help but think, _If she lied about this, what else did she lie about?_

She didn’t know where Kara was from. She didn’t know what her real name was. She didn’t know anything. Even the things she did know could be falsehoods. Her brain couldn’t process the last three years of late nights, of roaming hands and wandering eyes. Was it all a game? The more she thought, the more she hoped her mind was playing tricks on her.

She remembered the first time. How full her heart was, how reverent Kara’s hands were. She remembered the morning after.

_“I’ve gotta go to work,” Kara started, pulling on the last of her clothes._

_Lena sat up in bed, not bothering to cover her breasts when the sheet fell, hoping to entice the blonde as she leaned in for a deep kiss._

_When Kara pulled away with a “Do the bottom lock on your way out? I’ll see you.” and an awkward smile, Lena couldn’t help but feel her heart drop to her feet. Still, when Kara invited her to game night a week later, she said yes. And when Kara invited her to stay behind when the rest of her friends left, she said yes again and again and again._

They had been fucking for a year when Kara decided pleasantries were unnecessary. When they were friends, they were friends. But when they fucked, they fucked.

_It was just after 10 o’clock when she received the text._

_Kara [10:14 PM]: You around?_

_She really, truly, wanted to ignore it. Instead, she sent back a picture of her breasts flowing just slightly over the edge of her red push up bra. Within the hour, her bra was abandoned somewhere on the living room floor. She spent the night worshipping each and every gloriously muscular inch of the blonde reporter’s body. When she woke up with her alarm at 6:30am, Kara was gone._

When Lena would talk about the Luthors…about her mother…about Ireland, Kara would give her a sympathetic smile, but always eventually distracted her with a hand skirting up her thigh when the conversation veered too close to the topic of her own childhood in Midvale. If Lena attempted to bring up the subject again, Kara “had a last minute deadline” and needed to go. At the time, it seemed reasonable enough. She certainly didn’t mind the orgasms. But in hindsight, it only shined a fucking floodlight on how few details she actually had about the one person who knew everything there was to know about her. 

_Kara stormed into her office one afternoon, eyes blazing. Her energy was palpable; searing rage was the only thing holding her back from tears. The CEO barely had time for a greeting (not that Kara said hello, either) before she was bent over her desk, dress bunched over her hips and underwear at her knees, as Kara pumped her fingers furiously in and out of her core from behind. It was admittedly concerning but her every nerve ending was on fire and it was so, so good. Kara was never this dominant, this ravenous. It didn’t take long to for her to come. Even then, she only just barely did so when Kara unceremoniously removed her fingers and walked out, without so much as a second glance._

As she thought back on the moment - really, it was no more than a moment - Lena realized Kara must have spent the day reporting on Supergirl’s attack of the White House. She was no better than a blow up doll; there for Kara to use and throw away as she pleased. Though, she imagined, men may actually be prone to growing attached to their plastic partners. Kara never had.

_It was one of their many ill-fated nights. They all blurred together now, but it was surely in the beginning. She never would have been so utterly stupid after the first year._

  
_They were both drunk, or at least Lena thought they were, as they stumbled into her bedroom. Kara climbed on top of her, quickly pulling off her Armani blouse. She was almost positive she heard it rip, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Kara was mumbling into the valley between her breasts, placing wet, open mouthed kisses down her abdomen and suddenly she couldn’t believe what she was hearing._

_At first she froze. Her heart felt unsettlingly full as it beat rapidly in her chest. She didn’t trust her voice, but her drunk brain was screaming: say! it! back!_

_Kara repeated herself as she pulled one side of Lena’s bra down to expose her breast, gazing in awe at the skin below her. “I love your body. So fucking much.”_

_Lena’s brain caught up with her - but not like when she’s late to work and Jess runs behind her, shoving an iced coffee in her hand…no, this was like the end of that godawful Sandra Bullock movie Speed and she was the the train about to come off the track onto a packed city street and the bomb was still strapped to her chest. She forced a smile, though Kara was too busy tugging at her nipple to notice._

_Of course Kara didn’t love her. Just her body. It was all she was good for, anyway._

She pushed that moment, that passing thought, deep down. So deep that even she believed all she wanted with Kara was sex. That is, until nights when Kara pulled away right after sex, cold as ice. When she woke up alone after nights of soft hands and gentle words. When Kara was unavailable for a drunk booty call because “I’m with Mike now.” When the illusion broke and it hit her that she’d been deluding herself for years. 

Yeah, the more she thought about it she never knew Kara. She never _had_ Kara. And somehow, with that realization, the fact that Kara was Supergirl didn’t seem like the biggest lie of them all. She had certainly told herself bigger these past few years. 

At the top of the list: 

1\. She wasn’t in love with Supergirl. 

2\. She ever had a chance.


	2. it matters how this ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Large amounts of Adele (specifically, "All I Ask") and the Spotify 10 Years of Heartache playlist were consumed during the making of this story.
> 
> Here is a playlist [about this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2BcUbDfRGYKx22D7KIO55W?si=v55W4iA0TZWbzlVEgRUAUg).
> 
> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)

If you asked Lena Luthor how she made it to Kara Danvers’- _no, Supergirl’s_ _-_ apartment, she would have no clear explanation. It wasn’t that she was drunk. Sure, she had poured herself a glass or two of scotch from the decanter in her office, but that was hours ago now. Her mind was clear. It was clear and it was positively racing. She’d been thinking about Kara...again. If she knew anything, she knew that much. 

She couldn’t _stop_ thinking about Kara. Thinking about the fact that Kara _wasn’t_ Kara. That Kara was Supergirl. That Kara was beautiful and intelligent and infuriating and a _liar_. That Supergirl was sexy and confident and for damn sure not her hero anymore. The fact these two utterly different women were one and the same made gut wrenching sense. She could barely breathe at the thought. Of course, Lena Luthor would fall in love with an alien - and an alien that didn’t love her back, at that. _What a joke_. She could hear Lex and her mother’s cruel laughter play in her mind like a broken record. _No one wants you here, dear, haven’t you learned that yet?_ Lillian would say.

Anxiety bubbled in her chest as the monsters of her childhood crept out of the shadows. They called to her, begged her to come play in their alluring darkness. Tonight, she needed to keep them at bay, if only to see this through. Not for Kara, no… _fuck_ Kara _._ This was for her and her alone. She took deep, steadying breaths as she stood in the hallway of the reporter’s apartment building. Evaluating her reflection in her phone’s camera app, she applied a fresh coat of deep red lipstick and freed just one button too many on her just-short-of-sheer white chiffon blouse for this visit to be mistaken for friendly. In one last adjustment, she pulled her hair down from it’s tight professional updo - running her fingers through her dark mane, she rustled the hair until it framed her face _just_ right. 

Satisfied with her appearance, she tucked her phone into the inner pocket of her maroon blazer, steeling herself before she knocked on the reinforced wood of the door in front of her. What seemed like hours later, Kara opened the door in an oversized National City University t-shirt that only barely covered her cotton briefs as it hit the top of her thighs. She looked tired as she peered at Lena with confusion. _How late was it?_ “Lena? What are you doing here?” She rasped.

“What am I _usually_ doing here?” She attempted to flirt, chest puffed and chin held high. In that moment, every ounce of her was impermeable confidence: Lena Luthor, CEO.

The blonde’s eyes narrowed, bordering on annoyance, but she acquiesced. Lena didn’t miss the blue eyes that dropped to her cleavage. She stepped through the entryway as Kara offered over her shoulder, “Wine?”

Turning her head toward the voice, Lena saw the clock on the stove. It was nearly 1am. _Shit. So much for not desperate._ “Sure, thanks.”

Resting against the countertop, Lena watched in silence as Kara pulled a bottle of wine from the cabinet to pour her a small glass. She made a show of struggling with the bottle opener, though Lena now knew she could have easily opened the bottle with her pinky finger. “Are you okay?” The blonde asked, shrugging defeatedly at the mug holding Lena’s wine as she passed it over. _It’s all I’ve got_. “You usually text.”

Lena relished in the calming, anchoring quality of the cool glass against her skin. She took a long sip of the sharp liquid, hoping it would bring her the courage she needed. It didn’t. “Long day at work is all.” She tried a sultry smile. “Why don’t you help take my mind off it?” As soon as the words passed her lips, she knew it was wrong. _This isn’t what I came here for._ She had planned to talk to Kara. To tell her the truth. To say _I love you, Supergirl_. But Kara was suddenly wide awake, her eyes like fire and Lena would always be a moth to the flame. She let herself fall into old, familiar patterns the second those perfect fingers grasped her hips. 

“I can do that,” Kara smirked before pulling her into a heated kiss.

Kara always felt _so fucking good_. That’s how she made it to this moment in the first place. If Lena didn’t know what Kara’s lips felt like, she wouldn’t know how painful it was to have to tear herself away. But now, as Kara gripped her ass and shoved a muscular thigh between her own to pin her against the countertop, she had no plans of going anywhere. Every movement of her lips, each flick of her tongue, and scrape of her teeth sent hot, wet electricity straight to Lena’s clit. It was unbearable and she loved it. Kara’s lips moved on a gloriously torturous path down her throat, nipping at tender skin, as she slid a hand under Lena’s preemptively loosened shirt to cup her breast. 

Lena moaned as skilled fingers met her nipple and pulled Kara’s lips back to her mouth in reward. But as Kara’s other hand toyed with the button on her pants she stopped. If this was her last chance to be with Kara, she didn’t want to be fucked against the kitchen counter and sent on her way. She wanted Kara soft and slow on a bed that felt more like home than hers ever would. 

“Bedroom?” On days when Lena was bone-tired and could feel every muscle in her body stiff with stress, Kara would fuck her hard and fast with the strap-on she kept in her bedside table until she felt like jello and no longer cared about the days’ events. Kara would call her _slut_ and _whore_ and just about every other depravity that she would eagerly claim in her most vulnerable moments. But tonight was not one of those nights and as she watched Kara’s eyes light up, she couldn’t help but wince. “This just seems…unsanitary.” She corrected with a forced grin and a wink. “Can’t let the potstickers see.”

“Right,” Kara laughed. 

When she followed Kara to the bedroom, she absorbed every detail. She needed to remember this.

Kicking off her heels, Lena threw her blazer over the back of Kara’s couch and unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, letting it drop to the floor along the way. When she entered the bedroom, Kara pounced. Her hands were immediately on the brunette’s generous curves, tugging at the clasp of her bra. She responded in kind, pulling Kara’s t-shirt up above her head with one hand as the other cupped her ass. 

“Pants,” Kara said as she pushed Lena toward the bed.

She met Kara’s eyes as she rid herself of her pants and underwear, bending down superfluously to move the garments out of her path in a clear show for Kara’s benefit. Kara, with much less finesse, shoved her underwear to her ankles, stepping out of them as she reach forward to pull the brunette’s ass into her hips as she stood up. Sucking Lena’s earlobe into her mouth, she sighed, “So fucking sexy.”

Lena hummed, pulling the taller woman into her as she turned in her arms. “Oh, I can do better than that.”

Soon, she was positively drowning in Kara as she traced each inch of skin laid out for her on the mattress. She wanted to be as close as she could get tonight. Each kiss had more feeling, more meaning than the last.

“Stop teasing,” Kara groaned as she swiped her tongue across her perfectly sculpted ass, soothing a bite mark she was certain would develop into a bruise on any other woman.

For Kara, her actions may have been teasing. But for Lena, this was _torture_. She reveled in the false intimacy the blonde provided her. It would be agony when it ended, but for now it was beautiful. It was…enough. She wanted to live in this moment, never letting go. She thought…maybe, just maybe, if she took her time it could last forever. But nevertheless, she relented. She adjusted their position and placed a gentle kiss to the blonde’s abdomen before reaching for the toy in the drawer, removing it from its holster. If this was their last time, she wanted to be sure Kara didn’t hold back. And she didn’t. 

She watched, enraptured as Kara sighed when the dildo made contact with her clitoris, teasing the pleasure to come. At Kara’s pleading eyes and sighed words - _inside,_ _Lena, please_ \- she dragged the toy teasingly down silken wet folds before sinking it into her core. She loved the way Kara’s hips rolled into her fingers that teased her clit, meeting each thrust of the phallus. She loved the sounds Kara made. There was something so enticing about watching the Girl Of Steel turn to putty in her hands.

As Kara came, Lena desperately wished she could feel the way she knew Kara’s walls were gripping at the dildo, but instead continued to focus her energy on circling her clit with the wetness that had gathered.

As Kara gathered her energy, she sighed. “Why haven’t we done that before?”

“Because you like to be in charge?” Lena suggested.

Kara muttered something in response that sounded awfully like _pillow princess_. Lena gasped in indignation and Kara’s amused giggle warmed her heart so much she almost forgot why she was there. Their brief bubble of near-domestic normalcy popped when Kara said, “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? I mean, that’s _why_ you come here.”

_Oh._

“Yeah. Yes. Of course. Masturbation _has_ lost its charm.” She stumbled over her words but attempted to keep the mood light, covering her hurt.

Kara gave her a look that said _fucking weirdo_ and shook her head good-naturedly as she lifted herself above the brunette on strong arms to bring her into a searing kiss, tugging Lena’s lower lip between her teeth as she pulled away. “Is it okay if I just…” Her words trailed off as she glanced down toward Lena’s lap. “It’s late.”

Not that Lena expected romance, but she had certainly hoped for better than _can I fuck you now, so you’ll leave?_ tonight of all nights. “Yeah, go ahead.”

She watched as Kara lowered herself down her body, not even bothering with a second glance at her breasts before settling between her legs. She felt more naked than ever before in her life as Kara captured her clit between her lips. Some distant part of her brain was registering the feeling as sweet, sweet bliss, but she wasn’t sure if that part of her was even in the apartment. The Lena that was in Kara Danvers’ bed at now nearly 2am felt…almost nothing. 

She felt pain that echoed, as if her chest was a hollow cavern - a habitat fit only for bats and other dastardly creatures that should never be seen in the daylight. The pain ran so deep it ached in her bones. Yes, _almost_ nothing...but not quite. She felt pain and she felt nothing, as if she was floating above herself - detached from all physical sensation. So, as Kara’s head moved between her thighs, she wasn’t sure she cared that the other woman took no notice of the tears that streamed down her face, filtering uncomfortably into her ears. 

Her mind circled around the events of the night, like water down the drain. If Kara ever showed her fondness, she couldn’t remember. _Forget love. She doesn’t give a fuck about you._

There was nothing kind and intimate about Kara’s touch. Each caress felt like a searing hot iron pressed directly to base of her skull. She wouldn’t be able to forget this; the way she ruined it. 

Kara must have noticed that her usually vocal partner laid unresponsive. She looked up. Later, if you were to ask Lena whether it was concern for her wellbeing or Kara’s own deflating ego that drove her to act, she would be doubtful the concern lay with her.

“Do you wan-“ She cut herself off, taking in the tear-tracks that marred pale skin. “Lena?”

“I should go.” She wiped at her face, trying to get rid of the evidence.

“Lena? What’s going on?” Kara was now sitting upright with her full attention focused on the brunette.

“Do you know where my bra is?” She asked, ignoring the question. She needed to leave _now_.

“It’s on the floor.” Kara sighed, exasperated. “You can go, whatever, I don’t care, do what you need to do. But can you _please_ just tell me what happened?”

Suddenly, the sadness in Lena’s eyes was replaced with pure fire. “I don’t want to go, Kara! You fucking…” She clenched her jaw, reeling in whatever vitriol she was prepared to spew. The fire was gone and tears welled again. “You’re an asshole, you know? I want to hate you. Every _fucking_ day I try to hate you. But I can’t…because I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. What a cruel joke that is.” She watched as Kara floundered silently. She rubbed her face with both hands, sighing. Anything to avoid Kara’s eyes. “Now, may I please have my bra?” 

Kara passed it to her in silence that felt colder than an Antarctic winter. 

As she slipped on the garment, she spoke. Her shaking voice betrayed the ferocity of her words. “Whatever this is, whatever this _was_ …it’s done. We were never friends and I think you know that. You can contact Jess if you need a quote for an article. You may _not_ drop in on my balcony under any circumstances. I don’t care if the world is ending, _Supergirl_. I mean it. Done.”

When Kara finally spoke, she said, “You know?”

She was furious. Of course Kara cared more about protecting her precious identity than she did Lena’s emotions. “If that’s all you have to say to me, I think I’ll leave.”

She stood with all the dignity she had left, gathering her clothes. She wasn’t surprised when Kara didn’t follow her. She wasn’t surprised when her ribs ached the next morning, sore from the sobs that wracked her body until that goddamn yellow sun rose. She wasn’t surprised when, after a week on the warpath, Jess entered her office and said, “I haven’t seen Miss Danvers in a while…are you okay?” 

(She was surprised when - instead of adding her loyal receptionist to the innumerable list of people she fired that week -she admitted that she was, in fact, _very not okay_. She was surprised when she agreed to eat lunch with Jess that day and continued to do so for the rest of the month. She was surprised when she made a friend.)


	3. hell is where i dreamt of u and woke up alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a playlist [about this AU Kara](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21XXqx3hAe5i5IWfolB05i?si=1Q2GJegOQvScuM8ds91tAw) that I've listened to nonstop while writing.
> 
> Here is a playlist [about this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2BcUbDfRGYKx22D7KIO55W?si=v55W4iA0TZWbzlVEgRUAUg) as a whole.
> 
> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)

As Kara heard Lena Luthor slam her front door shut she didn’t bother attempting to sleep. Instead, she walked to her kitchen and pulled down the last bottle of the alien liquor she’d gotten off a wholesaler at Al’s. She didn’t sleep most nights. She hadn’t since her mother put her in the escape pod to flee Krypton. Even in the deafening dark silence of The Phantom Zone…all she could see was fire, all she could hear was the muffled explosion of her dying planet. When she finally got to Earth and her powers developed, a part of her was thankful she didn’t have to hear their screams. But deep down, where she was drenched in guilt, she would have given up anything for just one more second with her parents - even if it meant death. On some nights, especially if it did.

—

Alex hated her at first. Hated how she took too much time in the bathroom and how she was _too good_ at science and how she was just _there_. She wasn’t sure if Alex knew that she hated it, too. If Alex knew that her whole family was dead (except for a baby that wasn’t a baby anymore who wanted _nothing_ to do with her) and that she belonged with them. Not in Midvale, not in Smallville, but among specks of dust floating in a distant galaxy. That was her home - among her people, wherever they may be.

Then, one night not long after Kenny died, Alex shook her awake.

She was dreaming of her last moments on Krypton again. Of red, hot fire. Of everything she didn’t hear that night: her parents screams, her friends’ cries for help, the sound of her world falling apart. And then, the endless blackness of The Phantom Zone. It was like a switch had been flicked. There was so much noise it was overwhelming and then suddenly - nothing. She was so alone for so long. No matter how loud she screamed, no matter how deeply she ached, there wasn’t even an echo to keep her company.

The dream was different every night. Sometimes she saved Krypton with her new powers. She sped around the planet with her freeze breath, sealing the planet into one piece, making it whole again. Everyone would be safe; alive. Sometimes she went in the pod as a baby. She grew up on Earth with no memories of Krypton. She was happy, _really_ happy. Sometimes she stayed with her parents. Burned alive. Sometimes it was just pure, suffocating blackness as far as she could see. She stopped keeping track. Every night seemed like the new worst possible iteration of the worst night of her life.

When she finally stirred at Alex’s concerned prodding - _Kara? Wake up, Kara_ \- she lost control of her powers. She pulled Alex’s hand from her shoulder by the wrist, tearing it from her body as though she had been burned. Her mind couldn’t place the strange intrusion. _There is no one in The Phantom Zone. Only me._ The fragile bones collapsed under her firm grip and Alex’s yelp of pain broke through her nightmare-induced fog, “Wha-? Alex! I’m so sorry, are you okay?” As she sat up in the bed, reaching out in concern, Alex took two steps back in fear.

Kara nodded numbly in response, curling back in on herself. Ashamed. Guilty. _Always_ guilty. More to herself than Alex she whispered, “Sorry.”

The next morning at breakfast Alex said, “Mom, I think I hurt myself in gym yesterday.” and Kara couldn’t figure out why she lied.

It took years before Alex fully trusted her again, but she did. It happened in college when they both were at National City University. She spent most of her nights peeling the brunette off of the bathroom floor of their shared apartment, pushing down her anger because _what has ever happened to you, Alex?_ Still, she picked up the pieces. That’s what sisters did. So when Alex found her, drunk on alien liquor for the first time in her life, she didn’t question it. That’s what sisters did.

It had been a long semester. From the moment she stepped on campus she was tasked with taking care of Alex. (“Live with your sister,” Eliza said. “She’ll show you around, make sure you fit in.”) Little did Eliza know: if Alex wasn’t in class, she was drunk or on her way there. Each night of sister duty chipped away at what little reserves she had left, piling on top of days filled with getting-to-know-you exercises and overeager freshmen asking personal questions she didn’t have the right answers for - not on this planet, anyway - until finally she broke.

She found an alien bar in one of the city’s rougher neighborhoods, Al’s, with a barrel-chested pit-bull of a man guarding the door. He glanced over her ID and tossed it back at her without a second thought. It felt like a sucker punch. “This isn’t the place for you, kid. Go try your fake somewhere else.”

_If I can’t get in here - the one place in the entire city I belong - where am I supposed to go?_

She straightened her spine and met his eyes, her eyes flashing red. “I’m in the right place.”

A mix of fear and respect washed over the burly, balding man’s face.“Go on in. And uh, sorry…about that.”

Sometimes she hated looking human. It meant perpetual invisibility. “No problem,” she smiled, nodding in acknowledgment as she shouldered her way past a crowd of people gathered near the door, making a beeline for the bar. “Whatever alien beer you’ve got, please.”

She didn’t like the taste very much. It was too sour, too sharp. But it numbed the parts of her brain that couldn’t stop working...wouldn’t stop remembering…wouldn’t stop screaming: _you should’ve died that night._ She looked around. She was surrounded by more aliens than she had been in decades. It was overwhelming. She loved it, but it still wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough. It would never be. They weren’t her people, not really. In the same way that she wasn’t theirs; they were all orphans and no matter how hard they tried, it would always be like trying to finish a single puzzle with pieces from the box marked “miscellaneous”. More trouble than it was worth. Two hours and three pints of deceptively strong ale later she was stumbling into the apartment and Alex was - for once - disappointingly sober as she studied for an upcoming chemistry exam. Her work was spread haphazardly across the coffee table as she desperately tried to absorb a semester’s worth of information. Kara had hoped she could sneak in unnoticed, but not tonight.

“Kara…? Are you drunk?” The brunette stood, concerned.

Kara hiccuped out a “yup,” giggling in surprise at the noise as she slumped on the couch.

“Where did you…? I didn’t even know you could…” She grasped for words.

Kara looked at her withglassy eyes and a dopey grin. “Alien bar…so many nice aliens. Like me!” Her expression suddenly shifted to one of contemplation as she slurred, “I don’t know why you’re so sad, Alex. You’re home.”

“We’re both home, Kara. I’m here,” she tried. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t have a home,” Kara mumbled into the couch.

Years passed and Alex never questioned her sister’s occasional (but increasingly frequent) drunken nights. If she asked, Kara would say it was the only time she could sleep through the night. Or, maybe, _just maybe_ , she’d admit that it was the only time she felt human enough, fallible enough, to belong on Earth.

—

When she met Lena, she stopped drinking…for the most part. She found a new way to sleep through the night. Lena, or her body rather, was enough of a comfort. (Not that Lena noticed when she added a drop or two or ten of intergalactic spirits to otherwise ineffective wine.) But she didn’t know how to tell Lena - such an utterly breakable woman - that underneath her veneer of kindness, she bubbled with hurt and rage that spanned galaxies. That Krypton haunted her like a million ghosts. Instead, she protected her from it as best she could.

She knew from the way Lena looked at her when she asked about Midvale, about Eliza, that she thought her childhood was perfect. That she had never suffered. Never lost. That she was _lucky_. And Kara was a lot of things: a Zor-El, a Danvers, a Kryptonian, but she was not lucky. Nowhere near it. So, when Lena told her stories of how she yearned for Ireland, even though she could barely remember it, Kara bit back the venom that rose in her throat...because Lena didn’t know. She wasn’t _trying_ to poke at the wounds Kara spent years peeking at from the corners of her eyes only to have them face her down in the dead of night. She didn’t know that every time Kara closed her eyes she saw her home in flames…a home she remembered every last inch of.

In those moments, she would push down her anger and aim for something easier. Like, Lena’s thigh. Kara knew if she scraped what was left of her neatly trimmed nails against the soft, pale skin Lena would always give in. The sex was just as much of a distraction for her as it was for Lena. She knew that. She saw the way Lena looked at her. Those soft, open green eyes that said _please don’t hurt me_. She didn’t know how to tell Lena that there was no way around it. That that’s what happened to people who got too close to her: Pain. Anguish. Death. Destruction. In one way or another, they all got hurt. From her string of high school boyfriends with broken noses to her family, dead among the stars. She was always the last one standing, so she learned very quickly - stand alone. If not for herself, for those around her. Sure, she had Alex and Eliza. She had Winn and James. But none of them _knew_ her, not really _._ They didn’t know the parts of her that were dark and desolate…The Phantom Zone incarnate. They only ever saw the bubbly, hopeful _happy_ person they wanted to see.

Regardless, they counted on her. Everyone counted on her. Supergirl, protector of National City. And if she couldn’t protect people from _herself_ , how could she protect them from anyone else?

In the beginning, she over-corrected. She thought it was kinder that way. She comforted Lena, told her all of the things she wished someone had told her when she first arrived on Earth and the years following.

_“You’re so strong, Lena,” she’d say across the L-Corp couch as she cupped her cheek, leaning in to kiss her._

_“You deserve better,” she’d comfort as Lena complained about her family. And it was true._

_On nights when Lena wanted her hard and fast, she’d soothe the brunette as the tension eased with soft words whispered into her hair. “You’re so good. So beautiful.”_

It didn’t take her long to realize she was doing more harm than good. That Lena was clinging to every positive affirmation, hoping for more. And _more_ was something she certainly did not have to give. She was barely holding herself together…let alone the whole of National City _and_ a girlfriend. This was just sex and sex she could do. She pulled away slowly, letting calls go to voicemail and texts go unanswered, but still Lena relented. The next text Kara received was an apology and it hit her like a train. _How did Lena think this was her fault?_ She stared at her phone for nearly an hour, sipping straight from a fresh bottle of liquor.

_Lena [9:05PM]: If something happened that you’re uncomfortable with, please let me know. I apologize if I misstepped. As far as I’m concerned, we’re friends._

_Kara [10:01PM]: You didn’t do anything. Just busy. I can come over now, if you want._

When she arrived that night, the mood was distinctly different. It was as though she had entered the L-Corp boardroom, not Lena Luthor’s bedroom. The usual emotion Lena brought to their encounters - even in the briefest recap of her day - was gone. She radiated pure confidence. The brunette tore her clothes off with impressive human speed and strength, dragging her onto the bed. Each touch was pointed, each kiss was feverish and rough. There was no softness…Lena made that much clear when one perfectly manicured hand pushed her to her knees, her head between pale thighs. One raised eyebrow punctuated the movement, as if to say, _Well? What are you waiting for?_ Kara didn’t hesitate to answer the silent question many, many, times.

From that night on, things were different. Lena knew the game and played it well: no strings. She could choose to spend an hour ranting to Kara about she _fucking hated_ her mother, but it always seemed like better time management to spend twenty minutes with Kara’s hand shoved up her dress in the corner of her office. Kara never cared if she continued her rant milliseconds after she came. Lena certainly never seemed to mind when Kara strode in to her office for lunch, legs spread just a tad too wide across the couch…inviting her from across the settee. And sure, maybe they broke the shelf in one of the storage closets at CatCo -but it was all in good fun. That’s what this whole arrangement was… _fun_. They weren’t soulmates, they weren’t star-crossed lovers. They were just friends who had great sex. Or at least that’s what Kara told herself every time they parted ways…because as much as she wanted to delude herself, she knew there were always strings and she was an _excellent_ puppeteer.

—

_I love you. I’m in love with you._

_We were never friends and I think you know that._

_I don’t care if the world is ending, Supergirl._

Lena Luthor left her apartment hours ago, but the words still swirled in her mind as she lounged on the couch, cradling a liquor bottle against her ribs. She should have known it would end this way. She should have stopped it long ago. Not bothering to look, she rolled off the sofa. Liquor sloshed in the nearly empty bottle. As Kara saw some of the spilled liquid on the floor, she groaned, _shit_. Still, she stumbled toward her bedroom window, managing to fumble her way onto the fire escape. Super speed made her head spin when she was drunk, but she was definitely going to fly.

With another swig for good measure, she took off. She looked down on National City absentmindedly, only stopping briefly to gaze sadly at the L-Corp building before heading for her sister’s apartment window. If anyone could fix this - _fix her_ \- Alex could. That’s what sisters did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This _is_ the end, folks! 
> 
> Please refer to Maisie's very insightful comment and remember that romantic love isn't always the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)


End file.
